


The Sacredness of Tears

by ladyofthursday



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Author is Not Sorry, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Castiel and Jimmy Novak are Twins, Character Death, Crying, Dean/Cas Pinefest, Depression, Embedded Images, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Jimmy is a Little Shit, Lots of Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Moving In Together, Non-profit ceo Castiel, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties, Teacher Dean Winchester, Therapy, Top Dean, Wakes & Funerals, Weddings, deancaspinefest, it will hurt, minor smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-03-29 13:48:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13928382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofthursday/pseuds/ladyofthursday
Summary: When Castiel’s twin brother is killed suddenly his grief threatens to overpower him. Dean is powerless as his husband succumbs to the onslaught of his emotions and the reality of depression. As Dean struggles to help Cas come to terms with his loss and his mental health he longs for the past, and for the man his husband once was.





	The Sacredness of Tears

**Author's Note:**

> Wow I can't believe this story is finally here. I'm so excited to share this with you. This is the first writing challenge that I ever signed up for and it's been so much fun! 
> 
> A massive thank you has to go to my cheerleader [tobythewise](https://tobythewise.tumblr.com/) \- I couldn't have done this without you. Also, to my three amazing beta readers who pointed out my plot holes, corrected my atrocious grammar and helped me wrestle this into shape. To the mods and friends I've made through this challenge - thanks for all your support. 
> 
> Finally, to my stupendous artist [dmsilvisart](https://dmsilvisart.tumblr.com/) \- thank you for choosing my story and providing the most gorgeous art. It's a dream come true and I love your work so much. A million times thank you. 
> 
> A note about this story: I realise that mental health and grief are heavy subjects for a fanfic to deal with but I felt I wanted to try. I know that everyone has different experiences and reacts to these situations in different ways and this is just one way, based on some of my personal experiences. If you are struggling with a situation, I will always advise you talk to someone. Remember you are loved.

“There are no happy endings.  
Endings are the saddest part,  
So just give me a happy middle  
And a very happy start.”

**–Shel Silverstein, _A Light in the Attic_**

**3 rd April 2017**

_“Hey Dean, it’s Hannah… we… we need you to come down to St Margaret’s… as soon as you can… please, there’s been an accident.”_

Dean has listened to the message seventeen times and it gets worse with every replay. The way Hannah’s voice wavers, the little hitches and catches, the snuffles where it’s obvious she’s been crying. Every time he’s tried to call her back it goes straight to voicemail and no one else is answering their damn phones.

He’s tried Cas at least a dozen times but there’s no answer. It doesn’t even go to voicemail.

Every single failed call makes him put his foot down a little harder, revving the Impala’s engine as he hurtles through traffic. It’s the sort of driving that would definitely earn him a lecture from Cas.

But right now, Dean doesn’t fucking care.

Because his husband won’t answer his phone and Cas’ sister is leaving him messages in tears.

\---

The corridors of the hospital are empty and Dean feels totally lost as he tries to remember the directions the woman at reception gave him.

Left, right, left again. Follow the signs.

Hannah is still not answering her phone. Neither is Anna. Or Hael. Or Hester.

Or Cas.

He tries to suppress the rising feeling of panic in his chest. The bubbling sensation in his gut that tells him that something is wrong.

Dean can hear voices up ahead. Whispered, hushed, pained. A sniffle and a slight sob. The squeaking, shuffling of footsteps across laminate floor. A muttered name.

“Winchester…”

He breaks into a run, breath catching in his chest as his feet pound across the floor. When he rounds the corner he can see the four Shurley sisters huddled together, holding hands with blotchy, tear stained faces. They all look at him simultaneously and the looks on their faces say everything.

“Cas?” he stutters out, his voice barely above a whisper. It’s Anna who speaks.

“He’s ok I think. The doctors think he’ll be fine…” she trails off, another tear running down her cheek.

A wave of relief washes over Dean like a gust of warm air. But it’s gone in an instant because if Cas is fine and they’re all crying then there’s only one possible option.

“Jimmy?” he croaks, a new knot forming in his stomach. Anna’s expression cracks, a fresh wave of grief threatening to overwhelm her.

“He’s gone.” 

 

**12 th October 2011**

Dean’s not met any of Castiel’s family yet. He’s heard about them of course, but not actually seen any of them in the flesh. They’ve only been dating a couple of months though, so it isn’t the end of the world. He’s heard the stories though, about Cas’s four older sisters who teased him mercilessly and practiced doing makeup on him and tried to give him dating advice. And his parents, who Castiel loves very much but please, for the love of god, could his mother stop being so interfering for just five minutes?

And Jimmy. Dean’s heard all about Jimmy.

He knows Cas is desperate to introduce them but the timing hasn’t been right. Dean and Jimmy never seemed to be free at the same time. First Dean was busy with work, and then Jimmy got a girlfriend and wanted to spend all his time with her. Not that Dean or Castiel complained, considering how many of their free weekends had been spent in one of their beds. They keep promising each other that they’ll organise something soon, though.

He gets a bit of a shock when he knocks on Cas’s door and his boyfriend’s doppelganger appears. Dean just stares, mouth open. The man at the door stares back.

“Jimmy,” Cas’s voice calls from somewhere in the house, “what are you doing?” Dean can hear him padding along the wooden floor towards the front door.

“Well,” the man at the door says, a smile cracking on his lips. “There’s a very handsome man at the door. I mean he’s not my type and all, but nevertheless he’s rather pretty.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” Cas grumbles, his face suddenly appearing beside the other man, the infamous brother Jimmy. His twin brother Jimmy. This is new to Dean.

“Dean,” Cas smiles, “I wasn’t expecting you. I thought you were going out with Sam.”

“Yeah… well, he had to cancel,” Dean says, finally finding his voice. “Something came up at work. I thought I would drop in… I did text you.” He adds, in case Castiel finds that strange.

“Ahhhhh,” smirks Jimmy, looking from Dean to his brother and back again. “So this is the infamous Dean, hmmm?” Castiel’s eyes start to go wide, a pink flush tinting his cheeks.

“The one with the beautiful green eyes and the perfect smile and the oh-so-amazing-”

“Jimmy!” snaps Cas in a horrified voice, whacking his brother on the arm. Dean laughs and sticks out his hand, which Jimmy shakes.

“That’s me, green eyes, perfect smile and amazing ass – or were you going to say dick?”

“Nah, I believe my little brother described that as the best he’s ever had.” Jimmy winks, ushering Dean inside past a bright red Castiel.

“Jimmy,” Cas growls, “you’re being an ass.”

“Nope, but I’ve got a great one! Let’s order pizza, I’m starving.”

 

**3 rd April 2017 **

Before now, Dean had never considered the cause of a fatal car accident. It turns out that being totalled by a semi is one option. He’s trying not to think about it though.

Castiel is asleep in the bed beside him. The doctors have said he’ll be battered and bruised and in a bit of pain from the cracked ribs, but apart from that he’s come away rather well. They said it would be good for him to wake up to a familiar face and warned Dean that he might be a bit disorientated and probably wouldn’t even remember the accident.

Then they patted him on the shoulder, repeated their apologies for his loss and left, leaving Dean to wonder how the fuck he’s gonna break Jimmy’s death to Cas.

Jimmy and Cas had practically lived in each other’s pockets their whole lives. Looking back, Dean’s not sure how he managed to go two months at the start of their relationship without meeting Jimmy. In the back of his mind, he thinks that the twins were probably plotting some elaborate reveal - or at least Jimmy was, and Dean accidentally destroyed that.

Their first meeting plays over in his head as he watches his husband sleep. Castiel’s face is soft, hair rumpled and lips slightly parted. He looks so peaceful and Dean knows he’s about to shatter that with a hammer. It’s breaking his heart.

Castiel’s eyes flutter softly, first one and then the other, giving Dean a glimpse of the beautiful blue underneath.

“Dean?” he mutters softly, “where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital, sweetheart,” Dean replies, trying to keep his voice level, reaching out to squeeze Cas’s hand. “You, er, you were in an accident.”

He watches Cas process the words and pinpoints the exact moment that Castiel remembers getting into the car with Jimmy on their way to the office.

“Where’s Jimmy?” he asks, trying to sit up, a wild look of panic on his face. Dean squeezes his hand and knows his voice is about to crack as he opens his mouth to break his husband’s heart.

 

**4th April 2017**

Dean takes Castiel home the following day. He spends the whole evening in bed, holding Cas close while he sobs into his chest. Castiel clutches at him, his grip almost painful, but Dean doesn’t notice because he’s too busy softly stroking Cas’s hair and wishing he could take the pain away.

Dean cries too, of course he does, but it feels less somehow. His mind is numb, his body similarly so, as if it’s already steeling Dean for the next few weeks. Frantically trying to process everything so that he can focus on Cas. Suppressing all of his grief and guilt and pain and shoving them into a box, locking them away for him to deal with another day because now he has to be strong.

Dean’s done this before. He’s an old hand at grief. But to Cas this is a new wound, raw and fresh. He’s never lost anyone close to him.

All Dean can do is hold him close and make soft noises intended to soothe. He scoops Castiel into his lap, wrapping his arms around the slighter frame of his husband, holding him tightly, letting Castiel’s grief pour into him.

Eventually Cas stops crying, his body and mind exhausted, and his breathing evens out as sleep carries him away. Dean can’t bear to stop holding him though, so he carefully rearranges them until Cas is on his side and Dean is tucked around him, enveloping him, hoping that Cas knows just how much Dean loves him.

Cas wakes up crying every few hours, shaking from nightmares as the realisation that his brother is gone slowly sinks deeper and takes hold. Every time he wakes, Dean holds him close and waits for the storm to pass.

The next morning Dean sneaks out of bed before Cas wakes up to call the school and let them know what happened. He should have done it yesterday but to say it out loud to someone who doesn’t know means acknowledging what had happened. He doesn’t expect Crowley to be the one who picks up, mostly because he’s never known the principal to be in this early.

Dean stumbles through his explanation, trying to get words out quickly and not let his grief take hold. There’s silence on the end of the line for a moment, then an exhale.

“Bollocks. I’m sorry Winchester.”

“Thanks,” Dean replies. He’s not sure whether Crowley’s actually sorry or whether he’s actually grateful but it’s what people say in this situation, whether they believe it or not.

“I won’t be in today,” he adds, hoping that Crowley might stretch to giving him a couple of days off. Right now, the last thing Dean wants to do is teach double calculus to his tenth graders.

“Of course not.” Crowley pauses, “I can give you the rest of the week, Dean, and the funeral but that’s it. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Thanks, that’s really helpful.” It’s not. He’s not thankful. But it’s all the sympathy he’s going to get from management.

When he gets back upstairs, Cas is curled up in the middle of the bed shaking. There’s a wild-eyed, panicked look on his face.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart,” Dean says, sliding into the bed next to him.

“You weren’t here,” Cas answers, his voice trembling. “I woke up and you weren’t here and…” he breaks off as a fresh wave of tears overtakes him.

“I’m sorry, baby, it’s ok. I’m here.” Dean pulls him close again, wrapping Cas in his arms and feeling Cas gripping tightly onto the front of his t-shirt. In the near six years that he’s known Cas, Dean has never seen him like this before. In fact, he could count on one hand the amount of times he’s seen Cas cry.

But now Cas is breaking apart in his arms, and Dean has no idea what to do.

The next week goes by in a blur.

Dean spends most of it fending off visitors and well-wishers. Everyone tries to bring food, half of which goes in the bin because Deans swears that if he ever sees another fucking tuna casserole he is going to lose his shit.

The worst day is when they go to Cas’s parent’s house to plan the funeral. His father, Chuck, just stares blankly ahead and his mother, Becky, sobs and sighs and tries to feed them all. Dean silently thanks anyone who’s listening for Pastor Jim, who steers the whole encounter and makes gentle suggestions. 

Cas just sits there silently, staring into space. He answers questions when he’s spoken to but apart from that he doesn’t say a word. He won’t even hold Claire. 

Dean’s not quite sure how Amelia’s doing it – she’s a widow with a nine-month-old daughter and yet she’s coping with this better than anyone right now.

“I don’t think it’s registered yet,” she says softly, when Dean gently asks her. “I don’t think I’ve really processed that I’m planning my husband’s funeral.” Dean wraps her up in a hug and wishes to god that he could take this pain away from her too. Amelia breaks away when she hears Claire start to cry.

“We’re here, y’know. If you need anything.”

“I know,” she chews her lip, a habit that she’s obviously picked up from Jimmy because Cas does it too. “But you’ve got Cas to worry about… and he doesn’t seem to be doing well at all.”

“He’s not.”

**6 th December 2011**

There’s Christmas lights everywhere and a never-ending playlist of jolly Christmas songs playing in the background as they pay for tickets to the skating rink.

It’s something their little town does every year – hold a Christmas market and build a temporary skating rink in the town centre. There are a million different, delicious smells wafting around and Dean would quite happily give up the idea of ice skating to spend the evening eating and drinking his way round the market. Instead, he finds himself strapping on a pair of borrowed skates next to Cas, who’s chatting happily with Jimmy. In fact the pair of them seem totally oblivious to Dean and Jimmy’s girlfriend Amelia, despite it supposedly being a double date.

Dean’s not sure who he’s actually supposed to be on a date with at this point seeing as how Jimmy has totally stolen his boyfriend. At this point they’ve abandoned him and Amelia and disappeared onto the rink.

Amelia laughs, “I’m not sure who I’m dating at this point, I thought it was Jimmy but it might be Jimmy and Cas.”

“Yeah, they totally live in each other’s pockets.” Dean chuckles, helping her to her feet.

“Have you noticed that they’re always texting each other?”

“Right? It’s all the time!” Amelia smiles, as the pair of them stagger towards the rink entrance. “I’m pretty sure Jimmy was texting Cas when we were in bed the other day.”

“I dunno how they ever get any work done.” Dean mutters, “pair of idiots that they are.” It’s a warm sentiment though.

They stand on the edge of the ice for a moment, watching the twins in the middle. Jimmy’s pulling Cas along and the pair of them are giggling madly. You’d think they were six rather than in their late twenties. Jimmy notices them and waves.

“C’mon slow pokes. Cassie and I are bored of waiting.”

Dean looks over at Cas, who waves at him until his giant bobble hat slides down over his face. He’s bathed in the soft twinkle of Christmas lights, his cheeks glowing in the cold, eyes sparkling with happiness. Dean’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

Cas skates over to him, wrapping him in a giant hug and placing a soft kiss on Dean’s chapped lips. “I missed you,” he says, “you’re so slow at getting ready!” he teases, kissing Dean again before grabbing his hands and pulling him across the ice.

They skate until their muscles ache. Every time that Dean looks at Cas he gets a little warm feeling in his chest that gets brighter and hotter with every glance. Afterwards he buys them both hot chocolate, with mountains of marshmallows and whipped cream, and kisses the excess off Cas’s top lip.

That night, for the first time in his life, Dean says _“I love you.”_   

**12 th April 2017** 

Jimmy’s funeral is beautiful.

The family had only thought a few people would turn out and yet the church is filled with nearly two hundred people; including the entire staff of the twins’ non-profit organisation and some of the kids supported by their various programs. There are flowers everywhere and Dean wonders why everyone always thinks that white flowers are the most appropriate. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to look at white lilies the same way again. 

Dean sits stoically next to Cas, who clutches at his hand throughout the entire service. 

The last day or two, Cas has cried less which Dean thought would be a good thing. Instead the crying has been replaced with silence.

Cas has maybe said three or four sentences to him this week, unless Dean asked him something directly. Even then Cas only responds with one or two-word answers.

Dean’s started to miss the crying. At least he could do something about it.

Everyone from the church packs into the Shurleys house for the wake.

Becky’s running around trying to provide everyone with food and drink until some distant relative takes over and insists she sits down. It only lasts a few minutes. It’s probably her way of coping, Dean realises, as he helps himself to a large slice of chocolate cake that Gabriel, Cas’s cousin, provided.

When he looks round for his husband, Cas is nowhere to be seen. Dean finds him eventually, curled up on a bed in his and Jimmy’s childhood room, a steady stream of tears coursing over his cheeks as he clutches at a ragged teddy bear with a little ‘J’ stitched onto the foot. Dean’s heart breaks a little more as he climbs onto the bed with Cas and wraps him up in his arms.

**15 th April 2017** 

Dean sighs as he reads through yet another web page listing the symptoms of grief, running his hand through his hair in frustration. It’s late Saturday morning but at the moment, he’s the only one up and the house is virtually silent. Dean scans the list again: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance.

As far as he’s concerned, Cas has skipped stages one, two and three and headed straight for four. Although the crying has petered out again, Cas seems to spend most of his time sleeping. If he’s up, he stares blankly into space, curled up on the sofa under a blanket.

Dean had dreaded leaving him alone when he went back to work this week. He’d mentioned it to Cas last Sunday night, but Cas had snapped at him and told him to stop being silly.

“I’m fine Dean, honestly. Just go back to school. I’ll manage.”

Dean suspected this was as far from the truth as physically possible so he’d secretly recruited Cas’s sisters to pop in and keep an eye on him throughout the week. When Cas had shooed them away, Dean had pestered Charlie into coming over under the pretence of asking some random question about work. Apparently Cas had put up with Charlie longer than any of his sisters, but Dean’s not sure why. Charlie said they just sat and watched back to back David Attenborough documentaries.

Dean continues scrolling through endless amount of advice until his head starts to spin, and he has to takes refuge in Kerbel Space Program, attempting to soothe his mind. When it gets to lunchtime, Dean pulls himself off of the sofa and trudges up the stairs to check on his husband, a gnawing knot of worry pulling at his stomach. He knows it’s not even been two weeks yet, and that losing Jimmy is the hardest thing that’s ever happened to Cas but still, he’s worried. He can’t put his finger on why, but somehow Cas’s reaction doesn’t feel… normal.

Cas is still asleep, a little ball under the covers. Dean gently strokes his hair out his face as he settles himself on the edge of the bed.

“Baby… it’s time to wake up.” Cas wriggles in his sleep, making little grumbling noises.

“C’mon baby, time to get up.”

“What time is it?” mutters Cas, batting Dean’s hand away.

“About twelve thirty on Saturday.”

“Oh.”

“I thought you might be hungry.” Dean adds.

“Oh… not really. I’m just tired.” Cas mumbles, trying to roll away. Dean sighs quietly, and gently reaches out to stop him. 

“C’mon sweetheart, you really ought to get up and at least try to eat something.”

“No, thank you.”

“Cas-” says Dean, trying really damn hard not to use his teacher voice but his patience is wearing thin right now.

“I said no thank you!” snaps Cas, pulling the duvet away and rolling onto the other side of the bed. “Please, just leave me alone.”

“Fine.”

Dean stomps back down stairs, too angry and frustrated to eat anything now. He throws a pillow at the wall and tries his hardest not to cry.

**24 th January 2012** 

Dean’s never really been one for birthdays.

What’s the point in making a fuss anyway? He gets celebrating when you’re a kid – birthday parties with cake and ice cream and presents, that’s cool – but when you’re turning twenty-seven it just doesn’t seem worth the effort.

That’s what he told Cas anyway: no fuss, no presents, and if he really wanted to do something with Dean, they could get pizza after work. And maybe a beer or two – Dean’s only human and he’s got to spend the day teaching mathematics to a group of teenagers who really don’t want to be there.

Apparently though, Castiel has other ideas.

Dean wakes up slowly to the velvet heat of his boyfriend’s mouth wrapped around his cock, his tongue sliding leisurely up and down Dean’s growing erection. Dean can only whimper and grasp at the sheets as Cas takes him apart ever so slowly with sinful strokes. Afterwards Cas whispers happy birthday as he peppers Dean’s lips with salty kisses and Dean is so relaxed and sated that he forgets to be grumpy.

By the time he gets downstairs after his shower, he finds Cas in his kitchen putting the final flourishes on a stack of pancakes and crispy bacon. There’s a steaming mug of coffee on the side and Dean’s heart melts a little at the beautiful smile on his boyfriend’s face.

Damn he loves Cas so fucking much.

At midday he finds a cupcake in the lunch that Cas made for him, along with a tiny note saying that he hopes Dean is having a good day at school. Dean feels his face flushing and hopes to high heaven that nobody else has seen the look on his face – least of all his tenth graders.

He stays late after work because this year he’s been roped into taking part in coaching the school’s mathlete team. Somehow, they’ve managed to find out it’s his birthday. He doesn’t know who’s told them, but it’s kind of sweet when the team captain, Kevin, stumbles out some words of thanks and hands him an apple pie that Aaron snuck out at lunch to buy.

The house looks dark and empty when he gets back to Cas’s house, but he’s expecting that because Cas already sent him a text saying he’d been held up at the office. He muses about the fact that he’s is practically living here with Cas now and they should probably have some sort of conversation about their living arrangement soon. He’s still thinking about it when the lock clicks and he flicks the hall light on.

“Happy Birthday!”

“Fuck!” Dean jumps a mile at the laughing crowd hiding in Cas’s living room.

“A surprise party? Really Cas?”

“How else was I supposed to organise something?” his boyfriend smirks, “you hate birthdays, remember?”

Dean pulls him close, wrapping his hands around Castiel’s waist and breathing in his warm, sweet scent. He’s never had anyone do this for him before. Sam’s tried but he’s always respected Dean’s wishes around birthdays, but Cas? Cas has blown thrown his boundaries with a steamroller and Dean is stunned, because Cas cares about Dean in a way nobody else has ever done before.

“Well,” Dean chuckles, “maybe you’ve changed my mind.” They’re nose-to-nose now and there’s a little glint is Cas’s eye that promises so much more to come.

“JUST KISS!” yells a recognisable voice in the background.

“Shut up Jimmy!”

 

**23 rd April 2017**

“You don’t have to go back to work tomorrow you know.” Dean watches Cas pulling his suit out of the closet, checking it for wrinkles even though he knows it’s clean. “They can manage without you.”

“Yes, I do.” Cas’s tone is deadpan as he selects a shirt and tie, laying them on the chair for the morning.

“Why? C’mon babe, you’re still grieving, they can manage a few more weeks.” Dean says, reaching out to gently touch Cas’s shoulder. His husband flinches away.

“No, they need me. I need to set a good example to my employees.” Dean winces slightly, in all the years he’s known Cas, he’s never once heard him refer to the non-profit’s staff so coldly. “I checked my emails and I have a lot of work to do.”

“Then work from home.” Dean says, a tinge of frustration in his voice.

“I said no Dean, just drop it.” Cas snaps.

“Please Cas.” Dean sighs. “Look, I know this has been really rough for you, it’s been rough for all of us, but it’s not even been three weeks yet. Jimmy wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“What the fuck do you know?” Cas growls, rounding on Dean. “How dare you try and tell me how I feel? How Jimmy would feel? What the hell do you know Dean? Nothing! You know nothing. So don’t tell me what to do or how to feel because you have no idea what I feel!”

“Please Cas,” Dean asks, hands shaking as he reaches for his husband. “Please just talk to me.”

“No. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“But-”

“I said no!” Cas yells, storming out of the room, slamming the door so hard, the pictures on the wall shake. Dean just watches him go, sinking down onto the bed with his head in his hands.

**30 th April 2017**

It takes another week until Dean breaks and calls Sam.

“Hey Dean, what’s up?” Sam asks.

Dean takes a deep breath. He’s about to do something he’s never done in life.

“Dean? You there?”

“Yeah… just gimme a minute.”

“Everything ok?” Sam’s tone is soft, kind, nonjudgmental and it makes Dean want to vomit.

He can do this. He has to do this. For Cas.

“No… not really,” he sighs, rubbing his hand across his jaw, “I need help Sam.” 

“Ok,” Sam’s voice is calm. “Is it about Cas?”

“Yeah… yeah it is.” Dean looks around, just in case his husband has snuck up on him, but he’s still all alone in their guest room.

“How’s he doing?” 

“Shit Sam,” Dean pauses, “he’s really not doing good.” The silence on the other end of the line indicates Sam wants him to continue. “The first few weeks he just cried, all the time, and nothing helped, I tried everything, but it was like nothing would help.” Dean takes another deep breath and he sinks to the floor, back pressed against the wall. “And then he just wanted to sleep all the time, like he hardly got up for meals or to shower. I feel like such a bastard Sam, I had to keep forcing him to get up and he was so snappy all the time. He keeps saying he’s fine, but I know… I know he’s not.” He sinks his hand into his thigh, gripping it tightly to stop himself from shaking. He knows his voice is quavering but he needs to be strong.

“And now?” Sam asks. “Is he still sleeping a lot?”

“Yeah… I guess… he had to go back to work this week.”

“Had to?”

“Well, I told him not to, that he runs the organization, damn it, and he could take some time off. But he just snapped, Sam, just started yelling at me.” Dean pauses again, eyes stinging as he fights back tears as he remembers the aftermath. He’d tried to talk to Cas but nothing had worked. He’d even tried calling Cas out for his behaviour, calling him a selfish brat, but that had just made things worse.

Cas didn’t speak to him for three days.

He’d only relented when Dean had begged Cas to talk to him.

“He won’t talk to me Sam. He just goes to work, comes home and goes to bed. And he’s hardly eating-- I swear he’s lost at least ten pounds.” Dean can feel the panic in his voice. He spends all day trying to think of things Cas might like to eat – bacon cheeseburgers with his homemade relish, lasagne filled with the meat sauce Dean’s almost perfected over the past five years, mac-n-cheese that’s gooey and oozing, crisp vegetable stir-fry, Benny’s gumbo that the Cajun swears is a guaranteed cure-all. He’s even tried making apple pie even though Cas is the better baker out of the two of them.

Nothing has worked. Cas eats a few mouthfuls and then pushes the plate away. Dean’s even tried tactics he used on Sam as a kid; just eat this little bit, try a couple more mouthfuls and even once ‘here comes the airplane’.

“Dean,” Sam says, interrupting Dean’s harried thoughts, “I know it’s tough, but you’ve got to give him some time.”

“What do you think I’m doing Sam?”

“Look, this is going to be tough for both of you and I get that you’re doing your best Dean, I know you. But just imagine for a minute that it had been us in that car? How do you think you’d be feeling?”

“Like shit.”

“Exactly. And it’s not just that Jimmy’s dead, it’s that Jimmy’s dead and Cas survived.” 

All at once it feels like Sam’s dropped a ton of bricks on Dean’s head.

“Shit! I never… I didn’t… shit Sam, what do I do?” Dean can hear his voice cracking, the fear bubbling up and threatening to overcome him. He doesn’t know how to deal with this. Grief is one thing, but guilt is another and together they make a combination so powerful it threatens to wipe out everything in its path. Dean can’t deal with this. Not again, not after everything that happened with Sam.  

“Dean, Dean, Dean!” Sam is almost shouting, an anxious undercurrent in his voice. “Are you there?”

“Yeah… yeah I’m here. Sorry I spaced out for a sec.”

“It’s ok. Look I… um… I know it’s tough for you right now. Just try, try and take it easy. Don’t beat yourself up ok? It’s not your fault. Cas knows you love him and I know you Dean, you’re doing everything you can. Just try and remember how Cas is feeling… and give him time.”

“Yeah, thanks Sam.” He hangs up and, after a moment, throws the phone across the room, hearing it hit the floor with a dull thud. Dean has no idea what he’s doing and he feels utterly powerless against the looming shadow threatening to engulf them.

**13 th February 2012** 

It’s the weekend before Valentine’s Day and Dean, Cas, and Jimmy are all sat in the living room of what is now Dean _and_ Cas’s house. 

After the surprise party, they’d sat down for a long chat about moving in together. Or at least that had been Dean’s intention… a sensible chat where they could talk about it properly. What had actually happened was that Dean had blurted out, “you wanna move in together?” while buried deep his boyfriend. Cas had looked up at him, one eyebrow raised and laughed.

“You’re seriously bringing this up now?”

Dean blushed. “Sorry, it slipped out.”

“I hope not,” Cas laughed, shooting Dean a salacious wink. “Seriously? Do you mean it?”

“Yes?”

“Good, I’d like that.” Cas leant up to press a kiss to Dean’s jaw, hands sliding around Dean’s neck to pull him closer, whispering in his ear, “now will you please keep fucking me?”

So now they were sat, exhausted, in _their_ living room.

It had been a fairly easy move, Dean had always been fairly light on possessions and what they hadn’t wanted had gone into storage or had been sold or donated. Still, heaving boxes around in the freezing cold all day was nobody’s idea of fun.

“Do you wanna order pizza or something?” Jimmy asks, from his position sprawled out on the couch.

“Sounds good to me.” Dean replies. 

“Cas, go order pizza,” adds Jimmy, gesturing at his twin who answers with his traditional withering look. “Don’t use that look at me, it won’t work little brother.”

“It’s nine minutes, Jimmy.”

“Still counts, _Cassie_.”

Cas sighs and rolls his eyes, pulling himself up to go and find the menu in the kitchen, even though they always order the same thing.

“By the way,” Jimmy adds, looking at Dean this time. “I got you guys a present.” He pulls himself off the couch and Dean hears the click of the front door as Jimmy shuffles out to his car. When he returns two minutes later, he’s carrying a huge box which he takes through and places, carefully, on the kitchen counter.   

“What is it?” Dean asks, looking at the simple cardboard box.

“It’s a coffee machine!” Jimmy says, a proud look on his face. “I figured you’d need a good one since Cassie here is a grumpy pissbaby in the morning, as I’m sure you’ve already figured out. I’m just tryin’ to save you some pain!” He claps Dean on the shoulder and winks at his brother.

It’s a beautiful machine. Chrome and black, that grinds beans and has temperature control settings and a milk frothing arm as well as a million other features that Dean can’t see off the bat.

“Shit Jimmy, this must have cost a fortune!” Dean says, examining the little manual. He knows it’s rude to point this out, especially as it’s a gift, but still. This thing must have cost close to five hundred bucks at least. How the fuck did Jimmy afford this?

“Yeah, well you’re worth it,” Jimmy winks. “And don’t worry, Cas used to work at a coffee shop in college so he can work it for you.”

“Oh really?” says Dean, a sly smile on his face as he turns to his boyfriend.

“Oh yeah. You should’ve seen him. Cute little twink Cas, with his pink apron and his big baby blues. Used to make a shit ton in tips.”

“Jimmy.” Cas growls. “Want me to tell Dean what you were doing in college?”

“What cheerleading? Brother, did you see how many hot girls were on the squad?”

“I should disown you.” Cas mutters, opening the box up.

“You wouldn’t dare! Who else would bring you fancy coffee machines and regale your beautiful boyfriend with embarrassing stories?”

Dean chuckles as the pair of them bicker back and forth while trying to set the machine up. It’s six in the evening so it’s probably too late for coffee but if they’re going to the trouble of setting the machine up it would be rude to turn it down. Besides, he’s now got all sorts of ideas in his head… he wonders, casually, if Jimmy’s still got his cheerleading uniform… although Cas would probably look better in booty shorts than trousers.

He’s still dreaming idly when Cas places two mugs of coffee on the counter. The smell is divine, and Cas has even done some fancy latte art on the top of his…

“Cassie, why do our coffees have dicks on them?”

Dean does a double take and stares down at his coffee. It does indeed have a carefully drawn penis in the milk.

“It’s because you are one, Jimmy,” Cas smirks and turns to Dean, “and it’s because I want yours later.”

Dean nearly chokes on his drink.

**4 th May 2017**

Dean comes home not expecting this Thursday to be any different to any other Thursday he’s experienced recently. If anything, he’s almost wondering if it will be worse given that it’s now been a month since Jimmy died.

Yesterday, Cas had been a mess. He’d insisted on going to work but Charlie had sent Dean a text at lunchtime to ask him to come and retrieve his husband. Dean had scrambled to find cover for his afternoon classes, eventually turning up at the _Grow Your Mind_ foundation to find Cas had barricaded himself in his office. When Dean had finally talked Cas into letting him in, the room had been trashed and Cas’s eyes were red and swollen. Dean wrapped his arms around the defeated figure, sweeping him out of the building while Charlie snuck in to clean up the scattered papers and shattered glass.

But when Dean opens the door, he’s smacked in the face by the tempting aromas of tomato, spices and dough.

“Cas?” he calls softly, kicking off his shoes and dumping his keys on the hall table.

“I’m in the kitchen.”

“Something smells good.” Dean adds, trying to keep his voice level and cheery as if Cas cooking is a normal, everyday occurrence.

He wanders casually into the kitchen, taking in the sight before him with a soft smile. Cas is dividing dough into smaller sections while a lidded pan bubbles gently on the hob. The smell is divine, but Dean can’t place it.

“What’re you making?”

“Chicken curry and some naan bread.” Cas looks up a him, a wide smile on his face. “Meera in the office gave me her mum’s recipe, apparently it’s a very comforting dish.”

“Sounds great.” Dean adds, heading to the fridge in hopes of finding a beer in there.

“And I thought we could watch Star Wars as well,” says Cas, picking up a rolling pin. “As it’s Star Wars Day.”

Dean stops. Star Wars Day. He’d totally forgotten. What with everything going on lately, he hadn’t made his usual plans. Normally they’d have friends over, get pizza and snacks and binge the original trilogy plus whatever else they could fit in.

Cas seems to read the silence as a sign he’s done something wrong, because suddenly he launches into an enormous speech, words rushing together as they pour of his mouth

in a torrent. “I’m-sorry-for-not-saying-anything-it-was-stupid-we-should-have-invited-people-and-I-should-have-done-more-but-I-completely-forgot-about-it-until-yesterday-and-then-I-remembered-it-would-be-the-first-one-without-Jimmy-and-I-”

Dean cuts him off with a hug, enveloping Cas and pulling him as close as physically possible, breathing in his warm scent and the lingering aroma of bread. “Hey, hey it’s ok. Honestly, this is perfect.” Cas looks up at him, with slightly watery eyes and dammit Dean would do anything to cheer him up right now. This is the best day they’ve had in what feels like forever and he won’t let anything ruin it.

“Honestly?”

“Honestly! I’ve got the handsomest husband in the world, who’s made an amazing dinner, and there’s Star Wars – what could be better?”

“I…I bought a pie as well. Sorry I didn’t feel like making one.” Dean kisses him. It’s soft and sweet and he feels Cas melt against him as he runs his tongue over the seam of Cas’s lips.

“You’re so perfect.” Dean mutters, pressing kiss after kiss onto his husband. “So damn perfect. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” Cas mumbles, his arms pulling Dean tightly to him. “And I’m sorry I haven’t been very happy lately, I just miss Jimmy so much. Thank you for being so kind.”

“That’s ok sweetheart, I’ll always be here for you.”

The curry is delicious, a beautiful bowl of warm creamy, spiciness accompanied by naans that are as fluffy as clouds. The love that Castiel has poured into it makes it the most delicious meal Dean has eaten in weeks. They sit snuggled up together on the couch, Cas tucked into Dean’s side, holding hands in Dean’s lap, exchanging the occasional lazy kiss as _A New Hope_ plays in the background.

That night Dean makes love to Cas like it’s their last night on earth. It’s slow and sensual and there’s heat and love in every touch, every gasp, every whispered word. With every kiss Dean tries to convey just how much he loves Cas, because he’s convinced this won’t last. This day feels like a dream and Dean’s sure he’ll wake up tomorrow and everything will be different again.

They fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

The next morning, Cas throws a dish at the wall, screaming and sobbing as it shatters into a thousand pieces.

**20 th April 2013**

“This is ridiculous.”

“Seconded.”

“You still have to guess though.”

“Fine, fine… you’re Cas… and you’re Jimmy.”

“Wrong.”

“You’re both bastards!” Dean looks from the identical figures sat across the booth from him, giving them his bitchiest stare as he takes another slow pull of his beer.

Saturday nights have meant The Roadhouse for as long as Dean has been living in this town. Hell, these days the owner Ellen and her daughter Jo are practically family, especially since Bobby got his head out his ass and finally asked Ellen to marry him. Dean’s pretty sure if he hadn’t done something sooner, Ellen would’ve just done it herself.

Saturday’s always mean beer and burgers and, once a month, very bad karaoke. It means friends and family and some very bad jokes.

Tonight, Dean and Amelia are sat in a booth at the back of the bar alongside their respective boyfriends. How Jimmy has managed to hold on to Amelia as long as he has, Dean has no fucking clue because she is way to good for him. She’s kind and sweet and super funny, plus she takes absolutely none of Jimmy’s shit. Dean wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, but the proof is in the pie, or something like that…

But this Saturday is a little different, because tonight, god help him, Dean actually has to guess which of the twins is his boyfriend… it’s not a serious thing but damn Cas will be pissed if Dean picks the wrong one.

So far, it’s not going well.

This shit show started a couple of weeks ago when he’d made a passing comment that it was virtually impossible to get the twins mixed up because, even though they were supposedly identical, there were hundreds of easy ways to tell them apart. Cas’s voice was lower for one and Jimmy’s hair was slightly messier, always looking like he’d either walked through a hedge backwards or had some very vigorous sex.

But now Jimmy is on a quest, determined to get their respective partners to mix them up and thus prove his ridiculous point that he and Cas are utterly identical.

This is attempt nine. 

All the other attempts have been pathetic because Amelia and Dean know the twins; they know whose clothes are whose, who has little moles or marks or scars where, their likes and dislikes and opinions. Tonight though, Jimmy has obviously taken it to a whole new level.

They’re wearing identical new clothes – black fitted t-shirts, dark jeans and new converse. Even their belts and socks are the same. They’re probably even wearing the same boxers. Plus, they’re freshly clean shaven and wearing make-up. Not a lot, but enough to cover up any distinguishing marks. Like the little scar below Cas’s ear where Jimmy accidentally stabbed with a fork when they were four which Dean automatically looked for on both of them when they sat down.

Damn James and Castiel Shurley and their ridiculous competitive streak.

“Well,” says Amelia, breaking the silence as she sips her wine. “If we can’t tell I guess I’ll go home alone then.” She subtly winks at Dean as the twins confer.

“You could,” says Twin A.

“But we could both come back with you,” adds Twin B.

“That’s true…” Amelia adds, pausing as if considering. “I mean we do have a guest room. You could sleep in there.” Dean chuckles to himself, immediately twigging on to Amelia’s train of thought.

“Damn, that means I’ll have to go home alone too.”

“Aww that’s too bad Dean, but I know how you feel,” she squeezes his arm and gives him a sympathetic look. “I mean, I went shopping today and I had hoped to show Jimmy what I bought but I guess he’ll never know.”

Dean casts an eye at the twins. They’re still sat stoically but if Dean was a betting man, which he occasionally is, Cas is probably gripping Jimmy’s thigh in an attempt to get him to remain silent. Time to turn it up a notch.

“I know what you mean, I’m a little worried these new boxers are a little tight! Plus I really wanted to spend some time spoiling my boyfriend, but now?” He sighs dramatically and gives Amelia a tiny smirk. “By the way, I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you look spectacular this evening.”

There’s a low rumble from one of the twins but he’s not quick enough to figure out which one it was.

“Thank you for noticing Dean,” Amelia smiles, adjusting her top so it clings to her in just the right way, a hint of soft cleavage being suggested by the neckline. It’s a nice sight - Cas might be gay but Dean is incredibly bisexual, and he can appreciate that Amelia is a beautiful woman. “I bought the most amazing bra and it makes me feel so confident! Plus I think it makes me look spectacular, don’t you think Jim?”

She leans forward over the table, offering the twins an eyeful. There’s a moment of silence.

“Fuck I can’t do this! I’m sorry Cas, but they’re too beautiful… baby, please, please show me what you bought.” Jimmy practically launches himself over the table at his girlfriend as his brother grumbles, rolling his eyes.

Dean smirks to himself and takes another swig. Victory tastes good.

 

**13 th May 2017**

It’s been nine days since the last good day.

Since Star Wars Day.

Dean had hoped, even dreamed, that maybe Cas would start to get better. To admit he needed help or at least that he needed someone to talk to.

That dream had shattered the following morning along with Dean’s favourite oven dish. Now Dean just hopes they can get through each day, ticking each one off on a mental calendar and counting down to a time when things can go back to the way they were. Except Dean doesn’t know when that will be… he’s waiting for a day that might never come.  

Castiel’s mood is increasingly fickle - smiling one minute and screaming the next and Dean feels constantly on edge, as if he’s walking on a frozen lake with a surface that might crack at any second, sending him plunging into the icy depths below.

It’s a Sunday morning and when Dean wakes he can’t help drifting back to that last perfect Sunday they’d shared, before everything descended into this hell they’re currently living in. The sheets beside him are cold and a little shiver runs through his body. Dean craves his husband’s touch, the warmth and weight of Cas’s body beside his, the soft sighs and sleepy kisses that used to accompany Sunday mornings.

He resists the idea of getting out of bed for as long as possible, fighting the knowledge that he needs to check on Cas because he no longer trusts his husband. That realisation is the worst out of all of them. Deep down Dean knows Cas would never do anything like that… but recently the fear that Cas might has crept into his mind, whispering terrifying thoughts at night as the darkness descends. What if Cas wants to be with Jimmy more than he wants to be with Dean?

A tremendous crash and a high pitched, electronic wailing startles him from his self-indulgent contemplation.

Dean hauls himself out of bed, scrambling to put his thoughts in order, silently pleased he’s still wearing pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt as he pulls the bedroom door open.

The acrid smell of burning fills his nostrils, the blaring of the smoke alarm ringing his ears as he clatters down the stairs.

“Cas? Cas?” There’s no response to his cries and a little flutter of fear dances through his chest. Dean’s first thought is to find Cas but he can’t think straight through the obnoxious noise of the alarm. It’s just outside the kitchen so he hits the button, probably harder than necessary, as he passes, enjoying the silence that follows.

Except now he can hear everything else. The joyful hum of music from the radio on the windowsill and the agonised sobbing coming from somewhere near the floor. The kitchen air is still thick with smoke that burns his eyes. Dean forces open a window and casts his eyes around, scanning for any visible flames in case something is still burning. The grill door is open, smoke lazily wafting out, a tray of blackened toast still sitting under the heat. Cursing, Dean flicks the oven off, pulling the tray out and dumping it unceremoniously into the sink. 

Cas is slumped on the floor by the fridge, knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs, like a frightened child trying to hide from the world.

“Cas,” Dean says, crouching down next to the hunched figure. He slips his fingers into Cas’s hair, gently running his fingers through it in the most soothing way he can. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

Cas says nothing. The gentle murmur of the radio continues in the background, the upbeat pop number replaced with some lovesick crooning that makes Dean want to shred his brain. He growls at the offending noise, turning the power off, filling the kitchen with blissful silence and the occasional string of bird song that slides in through the window like a breath of fresh air.

“I was listening to that,” Cas mutters, his face still buried in his knees.

“Yeah? Did they play anything good?” Dean lowers himself to floor next to Cas, the tiles cold and unforgiving beneath him.

“They do this classic rock request thing,” Cas snuffled, looking up at Dean from under his untamed hair. It’s getting longer and starting to make him look more like Jimmy. Dean’s not entirely sure this a good thing. “Someone requested _Pour Some Sugar on Me_ and it reminded me of Jimmy’s bachelor party.” A few more tears trickle down his cheeks. Dean chuckles slightly, pulling Cas close and pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

“I’m surprised you still remember that night. You were so wasted.” A soft, huffing laugh escapes Cas’s lips and he leans into Dean’s touch.

“It’s stupid, I know, but I wanted to call him and tell him… and then I remembered I couldn’t.” He looks up at Dean, eyes wide, a roiling mess of emotions warring on his face – fear, anger, sorrow. “I miss him so much. I just want him back, Dean, and I… I…” Cas’s voice drops to a whisper as he forces the words out. “I hate him so much for leaving me.” A sob rips from his throat but it sounds like it’s coming from Cas’s very soul. “Why did he leave me? Why, Dean? Why did he leave me?”

He’s practically screaming now, each word loaded with venom. They reverberate through the silence, refusing to dissipate, hanging in the air… waiting.

“Hey, hey,” says Dean, trying desperately to brush Cas’s words aside.

“It’s ok, it’s ok. It’s not your fault.”

Cas pauses and studies him for a moment, tilting his head to one side, a tiny crinkle appearing between his eyebrows. “Not my fault?”

“Of course it’s not,” Dean adds, attempting to stop this conversation from going south, despite all the evidence suggesting that it’s heading that way. “And I know you miss Jimmy, we all do, and I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?” Cas asks, a steely edge to his voice.

“Well, you’ve been so down lately, maybe it would be worth, y’know, talking to someone about it.”

“Are you suggesting there’s something wrong with me Dean?”

“No, sweetheart, I’m not but-”

“But what,” Cas is glaring at him now, recoiling away from his touch. “What are you saying?”

Dean takes a deep breath, bracing himself for the fallout that’s inevitably going to come from his next words. “I think you might need some help.”

“Help?” Cas’s words shatter the icy silence, like cracks on a frozen pond. “You think I need help? Do you think I’m broken Dean, is that it? You think that because my _brother_ died and I’m sad, that I’m broken?”

“I didn’t say that,” says Dean.

“Then what? I’m pathetic, weak, needy? My brother DIED Dean, do you have any idea what that feels like?” Cas snaps, tone rising as he scrambles away from Dean.

“Babe please-”

“Please what? Don’t make a fuss? Be a good husband again? Stop whining and crying? Well fuck you! You have no idea how I feel. Just because I’m sad, because it feels like my soul has been ripped in two, you think I need help? He left me Dean! He left me and it’s all my fault. So of course I’m sad, but I’m not some broken toy you can fix. I’m fine. Just leave me the hell alone Dean.”

“Cas listen to me.”

“No! Stop treating me like a child - I’m a grown man. I don’t need your pity. Get out Dean. Just get out!” Cas screams.

Dean can feel the tears welling up, threatening to spill out. All he wants is to pull Cas closer, to wrap him up tight and drain away all the pain. But Cas doesn’t want that. He wants Dean gone. So Dean will go.

“Ok,” he mutters, voice thick. “Ok, I’ll go stay at Sam’s for a few days. Just… um… just call me if you need anything.”

“I’ll be fine.” Cas snaps, turning his back on his husband.

“Ok.”

Dean heads upstairs and packs a bag, trying to keep his thoughts level despite the voice in his head screaming at him, begging him not to leave because Cas can’t cope on his own. Dean needs him like he needs air but right now, Cas doesn’t need him and nothing he can say will change his husband’s mind.

He pulls the bag over his shoulder and slowly makes his way downstairs, the tears beginning to fall slowly down his cheeks. Cas is slumped on the couch, staring into space. Dean watches him for a moment.

“I’ll see you soon,” he says softly, not daring to get any closer. “Just remember, I love you.”

 

**11 th April 2015**

Dean is really not sure how they ended up here of all places. Yeah, bachelor parties do have a reputation for being wild, but this… this is something else entirely.

Somehow, he’s found himself in the private lounge of Tips N Tits, which is quite possibly the gaudiest, seediest strip club he’s ever been to, watching his husband dance on stage sandwiched between two girls in lingerie, while Jimmy and Gabe cheer alongside him. 

This is why Gabe should never, ever, under any circumstances be left in charge of organising anything!

It’s why his and Cas’s bachelor parties were incredibly boring by comparison. It’s also probably why Jimmy asked Gabe to organise it, rather than Cas, who definitely has a reputation for being the more straight laced of the twins.

Not after tonight though.

Gabe hadn’t even told them what to expect when they showed up, full of trepidation. Sure, the first couple of hours had been fun – laser tag, drinks, dinner and more drinking. There were shots at some point as well, Dean thinks, although he can’t quite remember at the moment… then all fifteen of them had poured into taxis and ended up here for the ‘evening entertainment’.

And now Cas is wearing glittery, golden booty shorts, a teeny tiny crop top (that Dean assumes is not supposed to cover the girl’s boobs at all), a cowboy hat, stripper heels… and a ton of body glitter.

Shit, Dean’s not even sure how it happened.

One moment Cas was casually enjoying himself, pretty tipsy but not drinking that much, and the next thing Jimmy’s whispering something in his ear… and, well his memory’s a little fuzzy, but he’s pretty sure he took a couple more shots and one or two of the girls disappeared with his husband. He wasn’t worried though, after all, Cas has no interest in boobs at all – and then… and then… Jimmy had been shrieking in his ear, grabbing his arm and gesturing wildly at the stage.

“Oh my fucking god! Fuck, Dean…. Lookit, look at my little brother!”

Dean’s jaw had hit the floor as his normally fairly straight-laced husband had strode onto the stage and began twirling on a pole, grinding up and down to the pounding bass line, shaking his ass like he was being paid to.

Holy fuck!

Dean’s not quite sure the last time he popped such an awkward boner but damn it his jeans are ridiculously fucking uncomfortable right now! Shit. Fuck. Shitting fuck. Damn it.

True, Cas isn’t always the ridiculously prim and proper image he presents to the world… Dean has a lot of very nice experiences to prove otherwise. Cas is the brattiest bottom Dean’s ever met. He’s also got an absolutely filthy mouth and delights in whispering stupidly dirty suggestions to Dean at the worst possible times… in the kitchen during dinner with Cas’s parents was one memorable experience. He buys different toys, has a collection of underwear that would put anyone else to shame, and happily dances around the kitchen, shaking his booty and trying to tempt Dean into something more fun than grading tests. 

And now he’s dancing like that in public. Clearly loving every second of it.

Cas grinds up and down with two girls on stage, wiggling his butt and slut-dropping just in front of Dean, who can only stare wide eyed, as Cas unfolds back up, winking at Dean as a tiny scrap of hot pink lace appears at the waistband of his shorts.

Jesus fucking Christ. Someone please kill him now. Dean is dead. Like really dead now.

He doesn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or drag Cas out back and fuck him senseless.

Jimmy and Gabe are hooting and hollering beside him. One of them has a phone out and Dean tries to remember that he’ll need to make it very fucking clear later that that footage goes nowhere. Then Jimmy beckons Cas closer to pour more shots down his throat before tucking a collection of bills into his shorts. He whispers something in his ear and Cas laughs.

He slides gracefully off the stage and saunters towards Dean. Despite the fact that he’s clearly wasted, he doesn’t wobble too much as he walks. He straddles Dean’s lap, wrapping his arms around his neck, a devious smile on his plush, pink lips.

“Heya cowboy!” he whispers, leaning forward to lick the shell of Dean’s ear. “Can I take you for a ride?” Dean lets out a small whimper. Fuck they are not doing this here. Especially not when Cas whines when he grinds down on Dean’s obvious erection. “Fuck Dean,” he moans, voice wrecked. “Make me feel like such a dirty slut. Wanna be so good for you.”

Cas grinds down again, clearly not remembering that they are in public. Sure, everyone else is still engaged with watching the other strippers or enjoying their own lap dances, but Dean is pretty sure that if he’s not careful he’s gonna cream his pants like he’s fourteen all over again.

“Yeah baby,” he mutters while his head swirls, “want me to take you home? Want me to make you feel good?” Cas whines again and kisses him hard, nipping his lip and sliding his tongue into Dean’s mouth.

Focus, Winchester!

He carefully lifts Cas up and pulls himself to his feet. Cas takes a step backwards but neither of them notice the sticky patch of beer on the floor. With a cry Cas tips over, trying desperately to grab at something, crashing into Gabe who’s stood behind him and the two of them go down like lead balloons.

There’s a sickening crack and a small wail.

“Dean?” comes a small voice in the dark, “I think I broke something.”

Three hours and one trip to the emergency room later, they finally make it home, Cas’s wrist wrapped in a sparkling pink cast. 

 

**13 th May 2017**

**Evening: Castiel**

Cas hears the knock on the door but he doesn’t move. He’s not even sure what time it is. Afternoon maybe? Or possibly the evening? He’s not really sure how long he’s been sitting here. He hasn’t moved since Dean left.

He shouldn’t have shouted. He knows that now. He knew it at the time. It didn’t mean he could stop. It was like he was watching the scene unfold from far away, as if he were a spectator rather than a participant. It’s not an excuse though.

Another knock on the door.

It’s probably Dean. At least, he hopes it is. Dean, come crawling back, begging for Cas to forgive him even though it’s not Dean’s fault at all. It’s all Castiel’s, the same as the rest of this wretched situation.

Perhaps it would be better for everyone if Castiel didn’t exist at all. They’d probably all be happier without him.

Maybe he could see Jimmy again. That would be nice.

God he misses his brother so much. It feels like his heart has been ripped out, and no matter how much he tries to pretend everything is fine, it’s not. His chest aches and all he wants to do is cry and scream and shout because it’s not fair. He just wants Jimmy back. It’s the only thing he can’t have.

He should never have let Jimmy get in that car. He should have insisted they walk to the meeting, it hadn’t been far… but he always caved when it came to Jimmy.

The knocking has stopped now. Good. Castiel hopes Dean will go away and leave him to his despair. It’s what he deserves.

There’s the click of the door and the gentle squeak of hinges. Castiel doesn’t bother to look up. He doesn’t want to see Dean. Although really, it’s that he doesn’t want Dean to see him like this. Weak, pathetic and broken. He doesn’t deserve his husband. His doesn’t deserve anything but pain.

“Hello? Dean? Cas? Are you there?” The voice is soft, feminine, familiar. It takes Castiel a moment to place it.

Amelia.

Why is she here? Did Dean send her? No, he wouldn’t do that. Amelia has her own problems to deal with and Dean is terrible at confiding in anyone else. He probably hasn’t even told Sam what’s going on.

“Hello?” she calls again. “I’m here for dinner, as promised.”

Dinner? Why is she here for dinner? Castiel didn’t know anything about dinner. This must be Dean’s doing. Heaven knows why though, it’s not like Cas enjoys eating anything at the moment. Dinner would be a pointless endeavour.

Nevertheless he makes the effort to sit up. He should at least ask her to leave politely, explaining the situation as delicately as possible in a manner than means she doesn’t ask to many questions.

“Jimmy?” Her voice is deathly quiet, a whispered hush on the still air.

“No,” Cas tries to say, but his throat is too tight. Why on earth would she think he was Jimmy? Why would she say something like that? “No. It’s me… Cas.”

Amelia nods and sighs, running her hands through her hair. She looks tired, Cas thinks, and thin. So thin. When was the last time he saw her?

“Sorry,” she mutters, “I know it’s you. You just…” she pauses and wrings her hands, “did you grow your hair out?”

“Oh… yes… it is getting long.” He looks at her again, trying to think of something to say. Conversation used to be so easy between them but now it’s hard to even form a sentence. “Would you like to sit down? 

“Sure,” she settles on the other end of the couch, looking at everything but him. “Is Dean here?”

“No… he’s not.”

“Oh, is he coming back soon?”

“… I don’t know.” Cas shuffles and looks at his hands. He wishes he could ask her to leave but for some reason he feels like that would be cruel, only he can’t seem to put his finger on why.

Then it clicks. The last time he saw Amelia was Jimmy’s funeral. No wonder she won’t look at him, he looks exactly like her husband. Her dead husband. And Castiel was the one who killed him.

What’s left of Castiel’s defences shatter, like a glass dropped onto stone, flooding him in a tsunami of pain. All he can do is curl in on himself as it overwhelms him, body shaking as sobs wrack his muscles, choked screams filling his lungs as every ounce of his body cries out in despair.

“Cas? Honey, what’s wrong? Oh baby, it’s ok, it’s ok, it’s ok.” Amelia’s voice is soft and soothing. A mother’s voice. He can feel her arms across his back, a hand in his hair gently stroking his scalp. He wants to resist, to pull away, to run far away but he can’t.

Instead he flings himself at her, practically crawling into her lap, grasping at her sweater.

He expects her to recoil, but she doesn’t. All she does is pull him closer, almost rocking him, as he cries into her shoulder, stroking his hair and whispering gentle words of love and comfort.

They stay there for a while until Cas’s breathing evens out.

“Hey, how’re you feeling?” she asks. “Do you wanna sit up yet?”

Cas nods, pulling himself upwards and retreating into his corner of the couch, face hot with embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, “that was ridiculous of me.”

“No, no it wasn’t. It’s ok. I’m sorry if I upset you, you just startled me for a moment.” Castiel looks up at her, expecting to see pity, but all he sees is pain. “I sometimes forget how much you look alike, which sounds stupid I know, but… I just keep expecting him to come home, any minute… y’know?” Her voice tightens, and he can see tears welling up in the corner of her eyes.

“It’s not… it’s not stupid. I nearly tried to call him this morning.”

“Me too. I sent him a text the other day,” she snuffles, reaching out to clasp Castiel’s hand, gripping it tightly.

“I miss him so much.”

“I do too.”

Just like that, they’re both crying, clutching each other as if they were clinging to a life raft, trying not to drown.

**14 th May 2017**

**Castiel**

When the sunlight wakes Castiel the following morning, it takes him a few moments to realise why the bed is so cold. It’s because Dean hasn’t come home.

That hurts more than it he thought it would.

Even though Cas is the one who kicked Dean out, he was certain that Dean would come back because that’s what Dean does. Dean is always there, no matter what happens.

He’s Castiel’s rock and throughout this entire mess, Dean has been here without question because he loves Cas.

What if Dean doesn’t ever come back?

The idea is like a knife in his chest. It knocks the wind out of him and all he can do is lie there and stare at the ceiling as the terrible truth of what he’s done sinks in.

All Dean has done is support him, cherish him and try to ease his pain however he could. All Castiel has done is cry and whine and throw one of the best things that’s ever happened to him away.

He needs Dean like he needs air. He can’t afford to lose him too. Jimmy’s death may have ripped out his heart but losing Dean will rip out his soul.

Cas takes a deep breath, as everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours washes over him. Dean, their fight, Cas kicking him out, Dean… Dean telling him that he loved him, with that tiny hitch in his voice as he tried not to cry.

Another breath in. Count to five. Release slowly. Just like Amelia had said.

It had been cathartic to cry with her. They’d ordered pizza in the end and Castiel had eaten more than he’d eaten in days as they’d talked about Jimmy. It had been strangely comforting to talk about it with her. Out of everyone else he knew, she was the only one who could truly understand what he was going through.

He could hear her parting words playing over and over in his head; “Honey, don’t shut Dean out. He loves you and he cares about you… just, let him in. It’ll help, I promise.”

The only problem would be if Dean didn’t want to hear him out. What if he’d decided Cas was too much trouble? 

Maybe he should talk to someone. Perhaps that would be a good idea after all. Then maybe Dean will come back.

Cas reaches for his phone and notices several messages that must have come in while he was asleep.

_> > From Dean: Goodnight Cas sleep well and sweet dreams_

_> > From Dean: I’m not mad at you, it’s not your fault_

_> > From Dean: I love you_

A tiny smile creeps onto his lips and Cas allows himself to hope for the first time in a long time that maybe, just maybe there is some good in this world. 

He stares at the texts for a while, reading the words over and over again until he eventually dials the number he intended to in the first place.

“Hello? Cas are you ok?”

“Hello Sam, thanks for answering. I know it’s early.”

“It’s fine, everything ok? Do you want to speak to Dean? I can go and grab him.”

“No, it’s ok. I actually wanted to talk to you, if you don’t mind? I’m sorry to bother you.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine. You want me to come over?”

“That… that would be great, thanks.”

“Alright, I’ll see you in about half an hour?”

“Of course, and Sam… could you not tell Dean please? Not yet anyway…”

“Sure.”

It’s only when Sam hangs up that Cas realises how much of a mess he is. He can’t remember the last time he showered, and he knows he only has clean clothes to wear because Dean has been picking up all the household chores.

The hot water is surprisingly soothing, and he loses a good chunk of time simply letting the water wash over him. He scrubs his hair and his skin, which turns pinks and tingles, and afterwards he shaves and cleans his teeth. It makes him feel better than he has in a long time – almost like a new person.

When Sam arrives, Cas is relieved to see him carrying a box of pastries. He’s not completely sure whether there’s any food in the kitchen because he hasn’t been shopping in a while, but when he pulls open the fridge to see if there’s any orange juice, he realises that it’s full.

Dean must have done a full grocery shop at some point as well.

They sit on the couch to eat, avoiding the elephant in the room for as long as they can until Sam cracks. “Cas… can I ask what’s going on? Is this about Jimmy or Dean?”

“Both I suppose,” Cas answers, pulling his knees up to his chest. “I think I need help Sam.” He can’t bare to look at Sam’s face, because he knows all he’ll see is pity and disgust. It’s all he sees on everyone else.

“Ok, that’s fine.” 

Castiel looks up. There’s no pity there. Just honesty. It’s refreshing.

“Thanks for telling me, I know it’s hard to admit that everything’s… well, when everything’s shit.”

Cas nods, twisting his fingers together. “Thank you… it’s just, I don’t think I’m coping as well as I believe I am… and I think, well, I know I’ve been taking it out on Dean.”

“Don’t worry about Dean,” Sam says, “he’s a tough guy and he knows you don’t mean it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Honestly. He’s at my place right now, he just wants to help.” Sam smiles kindly at him but there’s an odd knot forming in Cas’s stomach. A feeling that he can’t quite put his finger on. “Look, I get it, honestly I do – you don’t want to be a burden to him.” Sam sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. “Do you, remember what happened to Jess?”

Jess… the name rings a bell. “That was your college girlfriend, wasn’t it?”

A slightly pained look crosses Sam’s face. “Yeah, she was… and she died. In a house fire. While I was visiting Dean.” Sam bites his lip, “For a long time I thought it was my fault, like I shouldn’t have left her there, like I should have done something. And I just, stopped functioning. Didn’t go to class, didn’t really do anything. I ate a lot though. That’s all I wanted to do.

“And Dean. Dean was just there. I mean, I tried shutting him out, I didn’t want to talk to him. I just thought I deserved the pain. But he just kept showing up, even moved here for a summer just to help out. Eventually I just, gave in and talked to him. I realised I couldn’t punish myself for something I couldn’t control… and I know that I’ll always miss her, but she’ll always be a part of me. Even if I meet someone else, I won’t forget her.”

Cas stares at him. In all the time he’s known Sam, he’s never heard this story before. He knew Sam’s college girlfriend had died and that Dean had helped him out for a bit, but not the rest of it. There’s a warm feeling in his chest because he understands, at least a little, why this hurts Dean so much. He’s already watched his brother suffer through grief and now the whole situation is replaying itself, like some form of awful déjà vu. Yet at the same time, Dean soldiers on, determined to make the best of it.

He’s truly the best person Castiel has ever known. Which is why he’s determined to get help. Not just for himself, but for Dean. 

**3 rd August 2011**

Dean isn’t quite sure how he got dragged in to helping with the _Grow Your Mind_ summer program’s sports week. He’s a maths teacher for god's sake, he hasn’t played sports since college. He’s pretty sure Crowley volunteered him out of spite since the gym teachers are both away on vacation and Crowley hates letting any of his staff have time off when they could be suffering.

So here he is, coaching soccer to a bunch of middle schoolers in the most ridiculous outfit: red shorts and a staff polo. God help him if these kids ever end up in his class when they reach high school, he’ll never hear the end of it.

Right now, they’re running dribbling drills, weaving in and out of a line of cones trying to keep the ball as close to their feet as possible.

“Excuse me, Mr. Winchester?” The voice behind him makes him jump; it’s deep and a little gravelly, but it’s in no way unpleasant. He turns suddenly to see the person it belongs to, who offers out a hand.

“Hi, I’m Castiel Novak, I’m one of the director’s here. Thanks again for volunteering to step in at short notice, we really appreciate it.”

Damn but Dean is in trouble, because this guy is gorgeous. Dark hair, lightly tanned skin and plush, pink lips that are curved in an easy smile. It takes him a moment to find his words, because he’s currently gazing at an intense pair of blue eyes framed by long lashes, that seem to have caused his brain to cease functioning. 

“It’s… it’s not a problem, honestly. I haven’t played soccer in years so it’s kinda fun to do it again.” He turns for a second, blowing the whistle to command the kid’s attention again. They’ve been running drills for a while and now Castiel is here, he finds himself wanting to show off a little. “Ok guys, go grab the bibs and put the cones away, we’re gonna play some five-aside.”

There’s some cheering from the group, who hurriedly begin collecting the cones and dividing themselves into teams.

“They seem to like you.” Castiel chuckles, shooting Dean another of his stunning smiles.

“It’s the whistle, it makes me their god!”

Castiel laughs this time and it’s quite possibly the most beautiful sound Dean’s ever heard. “Well you seem like quite a benevolent god to me.”

“Right now I am. You wanna join in? We can make it six-aside?”

“I haven’t really played soccer before, but that sounds fun.” As he joins Dean in helping set the game up, a tiny tingling feeling materialises in Dean’s chest.

Castiel joins him every day after that. He jokes that he should be doing other things as his brother isn’t here to help out, but Dean’s secretly pleased as he introduces Cas to touch football, basketball and more soccer games. Every time he looks at Cas, the feeling in his chest intensifies and often catches himself thinking about him at random points throughout the day.

It takes him four days to pluck up the courage to ask Castiel out for dinner. Cas says yes before he’s even finished asking the question.

 

**7 th June 2017**

**Dean**  

It’s taken all of Dean’s limited patience to coax Cas out of the house this evening.

Despite Dean’s hope that things couldn’t really get any worse, the universe seems determined to prove him wrong and Cas’s attitude has taken a downturn over the past few weeks. He’s a mixture of snarky, snappy and irritable, biting Dean’s head off over the smallest of things, to utterly despairing and sobbing. Still, at least Dean’s allowed back in the house, even if Cas doesn’t seem to want his company.

Cas has agreed to look at getting help and Dean has done everything he can think of to be supportive. As soon as Cas said he was considering seeing a doctor, Dean had spent all his free time researching local professionals, calling around for appointments, looking at their insurance, payment plans – doing everything in his power to make this process as easy for Castiel as possible.

Dean knows that Sam had something to do with Cas finally agreeing to this, but he doesn’t want to press the issue. He just keeps telling Cas how proud he is of him, how much he loves him and that he’ll always support him. One day, he hopes Cas will believe him.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?” he asks, as he pulls the Impala out onto the main road. “I don’t mind.”

“It’s fine,” answers Cas, staring out the window. “I’m not a child, I don’t need supervision.”

Dean can hear the eye roll in his voice, but he can’t help adding, “I know that... I just thought you might be nervous.”

“Why would I be nervous?”

“Well, y’know you’re gonna have to talk about some of the stuff that’s happened recently. You might find it tough.”

“I’m not you Dean, I can connect with my emotions you know,” Cas mutters, “I’m not totally emotionally incapable.”

“Hey! I’m not that bad. At least not anymore!” Dean retorts, trying not to let Cas’s words get to him. His husband can be such a snarky, sarcastic bastard when he’s forced to do things he thinks are pointless. 

“Of course not, that’s why you insisted I talk to you but heaven forbid you actually do the same.”

“That’s not fair, I’ve been talking.”

“To who?” Cas asks, suddenly inquisitive.

“Sam.”

“Oh…” There’s a moment of silence, as if Cas is considering whether he should add anything else to the conversation. “You two are hopelessly co-dependant sometimes,” he mutters.

Dean shakes his head and takes a deep breath. Thankfully the rest of the drive is quiet and when they arrive at Dr. Milton’s office, Cas gets out of the car without a backwards glance, muttering darkly to himself as he heads into the nondescript office building. Dean crosses his fingers as he watches Cas go. Naomi Milton is supposed to be one of the best grief counsellors in the state and they’ve had to wait over three weeks for the first free slot – but Dean’s a desperate man and he agreed to wait.

Despite Castiel’s begrudging agreement to this, Dean doesn’t intend on going far, just in case there’s a problem, wandering into the nearest coffee shop with his laptop, intending to plan his lessons for Thursday and Friday. He’s halfway through a plan for his eleventh graders when his phone buzzes angrily.

“Cas? You ok?” Dean glances at his watch and realises barely twenty minutes have passed since he dropped Cas off.

“Don’t ask stupid questions, I want to go home.” 

“Ok, just give me five minutes to pack my stuff up,” he says, hurriedly stuffing papers into his bag, draining the last of his lukewarm coffee.

“I’m going to the liquor store on the corner.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to try your solution, I’m going to drink my feelings.”

**15 th June 2017**

Today is not a good day.

Cas has a meltdown, the dishwasher stopped working, Dean’s ninth graders spent the whole period arguing with him and the Impala got a flat tire. Plus, the laundry has piled up, the house is a mess and there’s hardly any food in the fridge because Dean cannot seem to find an hour to buy groceries or even twenty minutes to order a home delivery.

He’s currently trying to make a pasta bake, while simultaneously searching for a plumber to look at the broken dishwasher, when the doorbell rings. It’s the final straw.

“Cas, can you get that?” Dean calls, trying to keep his voice level, because lord help him if Cas thinks that Dean’s angry with him. He knows Cas is in the living room because he can hear David Attenborough’s voice in the background but when the bell buzzes again, he snaps. “Cas, please can you answer the fucking door.”

“If you want it answered, you answer it,” snaps Cas.

“Fine, fine, fucking fine,” Dean growls, abandoning the pasta and the repair search, stalking through the house and wrenching the door open. There’s a tall, dark haired woman stood there, in a Metallica shirt and sunglasses. “Can I help you?” he snaps, despite the fact he knows it’s not her fault.

“Maybe, I’m looking for Dean and Castiel Winchester,” her voice is rich and soft, with a soothing edge that calms Dean’s fraying nerves a little.

“I’m Dean Winchester, and you are?” 

“I’m Pamela Barnes, Sam sent me, he said you needed a therapist.”

\---

**Castiel**

The camera pans over a stunning shot of the Antarctic while the music soars and Sir David Attenborough’s soothing, measured tones provide the perfect accompaniment.

The world may be a terrible place, but at least there’s still Planet Earth Two.

Castiel’s irritation flares at the muttering behind him. Dean is talking in hushed tones to whomever is at the door, and he wishes they would keep the noise down. Castiel would rather like it if the visitor went away but apparently that won’t be happening any time soon because when the door closes, he hears two people walking towards the living room, still talking quietly. One voice is obviously Dean’s, but he can’t place the second.

It’s a woman’s, but it’s not someone he knows.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice says from behind him, “there’s someone here to see you.”

“Hello Castiel,” comes the woman’s voice. Cas looks up, irritably pausing the television to see the woman settling herself in the armchair to his left. She’s wearing sunglasses, which seems like a ridiculous decision, given that she’s now indoors.

“Who are you?” he asks, not even attempting to hide his contempt at being disturbed.

“I’m Pamela, I’m a friend of Sam’s. He said you might want someone to talk to.”

“Thank you for your concern but I’m fine.” How dare Sam tell someone about his problems, especially a strange woman who Cas has never met before in his life!

Pamela chuckles, “I don’t think so honey.” Cas stares at her, but says nothing. “I’m sorry about your brother,” she adds.

“Thank you.” He adds, even though Castiel knows he doesn’t mean it. He doesn’t care for people’s sympathy and platitudes. Most of them are fake anyway.

“Dean said he took you to see Naomi?”

“Yes.”

“Heard it didn’t go down too well.”

“No. I did not appreciate her questions.”

“Me neither, I think she’s a bit stuck up to be honest,” Pamela chuckles, flooring Cas with her honesty. He can’t help but stare at her, she’s something of an enigma and that is frustrating in and of itself because he’s always been good at reading people.

“Why are you wearing sunglasses?” He asks, unable to help himself, knowing the question makes him sound about five-years-old. To his surprise, she pulls them off, revealing milky orbs with no pupil.

“Get a few stares usually without them, but I don’t mind, my boyfriend says they make me look kinda witchy.”

“They do,” Cas agrees, settling back into the sofa, realising his earlier aim of staring at her until she left is now pointless.

“Did I hear you watching something?”

“Yes, Planet Earth Two. I find David Attenborough’s voice very soothing,” he twists his hands together a little, hugging his knees into his chest.

“Me too, you wanna put it back on? Maybe you can describe some of it to me?” This seems like an odd request, but Castiel resumes the program, occasionally pausing it to give him enough time to adequately describe the images dancing across the screen. It’s strangely calming to focus on finding the best words to use; he doesn’t have time to think about anything else because occasionally Pamela will ask him to clarify something or give her more details. He thinks it’s strange, to describe images to a blind woman. How can she know what he means when he talks about colours or scenery? But when he talks about the deep blue hues of the ocean, she doesn’t stop him.

“I haven’t always been blind,” she tells him, and although he’s tempted to ask what happened, that feels like it would be a trick question that would lead to him having to talk about Jimmy.

When the episode ends, they talk for a while about their favourite parts and the state of the natural world. Cas mentions how much he likes bees and Pamela begins to ask him questions about them, which he’s all too happy to answer.

Pamela leaves not too long afterwards, despite an invitation to stay to dinner from Dean.

“Sorry sweetheart, my ride will be here shortly, plus I gotta go let Kito out.”

“Who’s Kito?” Cas asks, suddenly curious.

“Oh, she’s my guide dog. I didn’t bring her today ‘cause Sam said Dean here isn’t too fond of dogs, but maybe I could bring her round on Friday?”

“Yes, please, I would like that.” For the first time in a long time, Castiel actually finds himself excited about something. He can hear Pamela and Dean talking as he walks her out, but his mind drifts off to thinking about Kito, trying to imagine what she might look like.

Perhaps seeing Pamela might be a good thing after all.

**21 st June 2014**

Dean hears the knock on the door as he attempts to straighten his tie in the mirror. He doesn’t even look round as he shouts, “come in.”

There’s the clicking of the door opening and closing but Dean doesn’t look round. It’s probably just Sam come to check on him again, when he should be rounding up the rest of Dean’s groomsmen. There’s a low whistle of admiration, which makes him jump, and a soft chuckle in a voice that’s not his brother’s.

“You know, you do look amazing in a suit.” Cas is leaning against the door, a little smile playing across his lips as he watches Dean.

“You see me in a suit everyday,” Dean says, turning to face his fiancé, “I dunno why this one is special.”

“Because it’s your wedding suit,” Cas says fondly.

“I think you look better,” adds Dean, crowding Cas against the door, hands on his waist. “I can’t wait to take it off you later.” He places a soft kiss on those plush lips, tasting the sweetness of champagne there.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Cas returns the kisses, reaching round to squeeze Dean’s ass through the navy suit pants, “and I bought something special to go under them as well.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Dean sighs, stepping back. He notices Cas’s tie is crooked, without thinking he reaches out to straighten the patterned blue fabric, as he does every morning. “How’d you get past Sam anyway?”

“Easy, I told him I was Jimmy!”

“And he believed you?” Dean raises his eyebrow in surprise. Surely Sam can tell the twins apart by now? Although he knows that their suits are very similar today, and with Sam’s stress levels heading off the charts, he’d probably believe anything he was told.

“I think he did, he’s very nervous,” Cas wraps his arms around Dean, snuggling in close, “are you?”

“Why would I be nervous? I’m marrying my best friend.” Dean presses a soft kiss to Cas’s hair, which smells faintly of coconut. “What about you?”

“No, I’m marrying the love of my life, I’m more excited than anything else. The only thing I’m nervous about is Jimmy’s speech.”

“Don’t worry, I know Amelia vetoed half of it, she told me last night.” Cas looks up at him and all Dean can see is the happiness shining on his face. They share another soft kiss, excitement bubbling underneath.

“I better go back,” Cas mutters, “before Jimmy comes looking for me.” He kisses Dean again, bouncing away, a radiant smile dancing across his perfect features. “I’ll see you soon. I love you!”

“I love you too.”

**21 st June 2017**

The whiskey sloshes in the glass as Dean pours his fourth drink of the evening. The bottle is nearly half empty already and he’s probably going to have a hell of a hangover in the morning. Thank god he’s only got to stumble through two more days before summer break.

The pizza box on the table is empty, save for a few crumbs, and there’s half an apple pie in a carton next to it. There’s some documentary about sharks playing but Dean isn’t really watching, leaving it on purely for background noise.

The soft evening sunlight floods the living room through large windows, the last remainders of a beautiful summers day. Cas is already in bed though, the medication Pamela prescribed makes him constantly nauseous with added dizzy spells that means he spends half the day lying down. She’s promised the side effects will lessen as his body adjusts and that he will start to feel better soon. Dean prays that she’s right because he’s not sure how much longer he can cope with Cas’s constant bad mood. One side effect that could be considered a plus, given his husband’s current temperament is that he’s also incredibly sleepy all the time, which means he sleeps off most of the drug effects.

On the down side, it does mean that Dean spends most of his time alone.

He can’t remember the last time he felt this lonely.

He could call up Charlie or Benny or Sam and see if they want to come over. There’s no way he can go out and leave Cas by himself, especially as he’s developed recurring nightmares which he wakes from screaming and shaking, drenched in sweat and tears.

Tonight though, he’s not sure if he wants company. A small part of him had hoped that Cas would be having a good day, but those have been few and far between lately. They’re tiny fragments of gold in a sea of mud.

The photo album is heavy on his lap, smiling faces looking up at him from every page and Dean’s heart aches with longing for those blissful, happy days. Dean feels like he hardly knows Cas any more.

There’s no smiling or laughter or Saturday afternoon baking. No rainy days snuggled under a blanket reading. The book nook that Dean spent a whole month carefully building, sits unused, its cushions and blankets stiff with disuse. There are no perfect Sunday mornings spent in bed, where sleepy kisses and soft words dissolve into quiet passion, bodies and breathing intertwined. No game nights or date nights or nights at The Roadhouse, after which they’d stumble home singing, hands clutched tightly together. There are no welcoming words waiting for him when he comes home from school, just silence and more work.

There’s no passion either. The only kisses Dean gets now are the ones he instigates and even then, they’re a poor imitation of previous ones. Castiel rarely seeks out hugs or intimacy, preferring his own company to that of his husband’s. Dean can’t even remember the last time they had sex. It was probably back in May, it’s the last occasion that he can think of, and although he’s tried to take care of himself, every orgasm leads to an overwhelming feeling of guilt and betrayal.

He misses his husband more than he ever thought possible.

Sometimes Dean wished he could just go back. Back to before all of this started. Jump in a time machine and head to that last Sunday before everything went to hell. When everything was perfect. And if he had his way he’d relive that day over and over and over until things went back to the way they should be.

In the dim evening light, the tears begin to fall. Dean does nothing to stop them.

After he’s drained the bottle of whiskey, Dean stumbles up the stairs, desperate for this day to pass even though things will be no better in the morning. Cas is passed out, dark hair spread across the pillowcase, looking more at peace than Dean has seen him in a while.

He sheds his clothes into a heap on the floor, sliding into the cool sheets beside his husband, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to Castiel’s soft cheek.

“Happy anniversary Cas.”

**14 th July 2017**

Dean comes home, laden with armfuls of grocery bags, to find Pamela and Kito sitting in the living room alone.

“Take it it’s not going well,” he asks, dumping the bags on the kitchen floor. “Is he upstairs?”

“Yeah, sorry, I touched a nerve today. He’s gonna be a bit raw for a few days.”

“A bit raw? Pamela, he’s nothing but raw,” Dean snaps, slamming his hand down on the counter. “I thought this was supposed to help him, not make things worse!” He takes a deep breath.

“Sorry, that was uncalled for.” He looks up, hoping Pamela can hear the apology in his tone.

“Don’t worry about it, it was always going to be tough for him. There’s a lot of emotion there.” She sighs, scratching Kito gently behind the ears, “it was always going to get worse before it got better, you knew that, right Dean?”

“Yeah, I did. I still feel powerless though.” It’s the first time he’s admitted it and it feels like a weigh off his shoulders. “I wish I could fix it.”

“It’s ok,” Pamela says, using that soft tone she seems to often adopt with Cas. Like she’s dealing with a spooked animal. “Truly. It’s ok to feel like this. And it’s not your job to fix him Dean, all you have to do is be here for him. He needs that more than ever right now.”

Dean nods, knowing there’s truth in her words, but it’s one thing to hear them and another to accept them. All he wants is to help Cas get better and if he can’t do that, what use is he?

“Thanks, I’ll try,” he mutters, glancing at the ceiling as if he can magically see Cas through the plasterwork.

“I know you will,” Pam smiles, standing up and grasping at Kito’s leash. “I’ll be back in a few days, just call if you need anything. And Dean,” she pauses, turning her head to look towards him and it feels like she can see straight into his very soul. “Don’t give up on him. He really does love you.” 

The house is silent when Pamela leaves and Dean leans on the front door, taking deep breaths, mentally preparing himself for the battle ahead. He has to talk to Cas. He has to tell him how much he cares and that whatever happens, that he will always love him.

Cas is curled in a ball on their bedroom floor, tucking into a little nook between the bedside cabinet and the wall, like a child trying to hide from the world. His head is buried between his knees and Dean can hear tiny snuffling sounds emerging. Dean doesn’t say anything, merely sitting himself on the floor against the wall, at a right angle to Cas. Their feet brush together and Dean places a hand on Cas’s knee, gently stroking his thumb backwards and forwards.

Dean doesn’t know how long they sit there. It could be an hour, it could be two. He simply rests his head against the wall, eyes closed, steadily stroking Cas’s leg.

Eventually the snuffling noises stop, and Dean can feel Cas wiggling slightly. He doesn’t open his eyes but suddenly there is a weight resting against his shoulders, a hand encircling his waist and he can feel warm puffs of breath ghosting over his chin.

“I’m sorry.” Cas’s voice is so quiet the Dean can barely hear him.

“It’s ok, there’s nothing to be sorry for,” Dean adds, still not opening his eyes.

“Yes there is,” Cas adds in barely a whisper, “I’m so useless.”

“No you’re not, you’re just grieving.”

Cas says nothing, and Dean thinks it’s time to tell Cas something he probably should have said a while ago. “I’m sorry too. For pressuring you to talk to someone when you weren’t ready. For trying to fix you.” There’s still silence and Dean doesn’t know what to do, so he plunges on, “I just miss you so much and it’s stupid but I just wanted things to go back to the way they were. It’s fucking stupid because that’s not gonna happen and I wasn’t really thinking about how you felt. Sorry.”

He can feel the weight leaving him and he braces himself for the worst, gut clenching and heart pounding because this is surely it now.

“Dean,” Cas’s tone is more surprised than anything, “you don’t need to be sorry.”

“Yeah I do.”

“No, please, you don’t. Will you look at me?” Dean cracks one eye slowly. Cas is sat in front of him, puffy red eyes filled with concern but nothing else, so he opens the other, blinking to get them into focus. “I’m the one who should be sorry, for putting you through this.” Fresh tears begin to well themselves up in his eyes, spilling onto his cheeks and coursing down familiar tracks. “All you’ve done is try to be supportive and I’ve done nothing but push you away. I’m such a terrible person.” His voice cracks at the last few words and Dean’s heart breaks anew. He throws himself forward, enveloping Cas into his arms and pulling him close, scooping his husband into his lap.

“No, no you’re not,” Dean says, “you lost your brother sweetheart, of course you were going to hurt. I just… I… I just feel so helpless…” It’s his turn to cry now, burning his eyes and dampening his skin. “I just wanted to help you and I can’t.”

“I know,” Cas answers, from somewhere around his chest, “I’m sorry for not letting you in. I feel so broken, I miss Jimmy so much and I just kept thinking that it would be ok but it kept getting worse. And I knew you were trying to help but I didn’t want help. I just wanted my brother back.” A round of little sobs wrack his body. “I miss him so much, Dean.”

“I know, I do too.”

They sit there for a long time; crying, talking, holding each other. It’s dark by the time they break apart and neither of them feel like eating, so they just crawl into bed together, clutching each other close and falling asleep in a jumble of limbs.

The next morning, they wake slowly, tangled together. It’s as if a new page has been turned and a new chapter has begun.

**5th August 2017**

“C’mon Dean, hurry up or we’re going to be late!” Dean chuckles to himself as he pulls a t-shirt over his head, grabbing his sunglasses off the dresser. He hasn’t seen Cas this excited in months and it’s making him feel slightly giddy – it feels too good to be true.

Cas is already waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, tapping his fingers against the banister, a pleased, yet impatient smile spreading across his cheeks when he spots his husband. “You’re so slow Dean! At this rate it’s going to take ages to get in and we’ll have to walk miles.”

“Alright, alright,” Dean chuckles, “did you remember to put sunscreen on?” Cas rolls his eyes at him and little sparks of happiness dance across Dean’s chest.

“Obviously, I’m not stupid! Now hurry up!” Cas practically dances out of the front door and Dean takes a moment to appreciate the way his ass looks in shorts. Today feels like a good day. 

The air is already baking, the temperature soaring with every minute that passes but Dean’s too happy to grouch about the weather. He simply rolls down the Impala’s windows and sings along to snatches of Led Zeppelin as they cruise along, with Cas practically bouncing in the seat beside him. It’s stupidly endearing to see a man in his mid-thirties so excited about going to the fair.

They manage to find a parking spot fairly easily and Dean shoots off a text to let Sam know they’ve arrived. Apparently, Sam wants them to meet someone and Dean has been sworn on the promise of disembowelment to be on his best behaviour. Dean has a sneaking suspicion that Sam’s got a new girlfriend and the fact that he’s setting up a proper meeting means it’s edging closer to a serious relationship. It would be the first one he’s had since Jess died.

Sam’s waiting for them just inside the entrance, fidgeting from side to side and waving awkwardly when he spots the pair of them. There’s a pretty dark-haired woman standing next to him, who reaches out to squeeze Sam’s hand when he leans down to whisper something to her.

“Hey,” Sam says, when they get close enough to be heard over the incoming crowd. “You guys find us ok?”

“Yeah, just fine,” Dean replies and there’s a moment of awkward silence until Dean shakes his head, turning to Sam’s companion. “Since Sam isn’t going to say anything, I’m his brother, Dean. And this,” he gestures at Cas who isn’t really paying attention at this point, gazing instead at the ferris wheel and a stall nearby that’s selling toffee apples, “is my husband, Cas.” He squeezes Cas’s hand, to get his attention and his husband turns, a beaming smile on his face.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you!”

The woman smiles and looks up at Sam, who seems to understand. “Guys this is my girlfriend, Eileen.”

“Pleased to meet you, finally,” Eileen adds, before smacking Sam on the shoulder, “I’ve been wanting to meet you both for ages.”

“Yeah well, that’s Sammy for you!” Dean adds, grinning as Sam rolls his eyes, making a mental note to up the brotherly torment to the next level for the rest of the day.

“Dean,” comes Cas’s serious voice from beside him, “is it too early for a cotton candy?”

By the time they got home, they’ve eaten pretty much everything the fair had to offer. Cas pointed out that usually he’d have Jimmy with him so this year he not only had to eat all his favourite foods, but Jimmy’s as well. And ride all of Jimmy’s favourite rides, even if they terrified him. Dean had nodded and kissed the top of his husband’s head before allowing himself to be dragged all over the fair. He’d even helped Cas win one of those ridiculously large stuffed animals.

Now they were home with full stomachs and pink skin. Cas lay next to him, chattering happily about what a wonderful day he’d had and how nice Eileen was, and how he wished Sam had mentioned her before and that he was now going to brush up on his ASL, because Eileen had definitely struggled to hear him at times due to the crowd.

Dean just lay next to him, enveloped in a warm glow, listening to his husband. Little by little, things are starting to get better.

**2 nd April 2017: The Last Perfect Sunday**

Dean awoke slowly in a tangle of limbs, Cas radiating heat through his soft flannel pyjamas.

He glances at Cas, watching his eyes open slowly; long, dark eyelashes fluttering as they adjust to the light. The soft sunlight of early spring was barely visible through the curtains, but the little that made it through gave the room an ethereal glow.

“Morning sunshine,” he mutters, voice hoarse, pressing a soft kiss to Cas’s forehead.

“No,” comes the response and Dean has to suppress a laugh as his husband attaches himself like a limpet around Dean’s torso. Removing Castiel from bed in the morning has always been a challenge. While the lure of strong, dark coffee was usually enough to encourage the ruffled figure from the depths of comfort, it was Sunday and Dean didn’t feel like getting up either.

Instead, they stayed in bed; dozing, talking, exchanging soft, sleepy kisses which lead to soft, sleepy sex and a long shower afterwards.

They forget about breakfast and by the time they remember, it’s too late anyway. Instead Dean makes coffee for both of them before starting to dig through the contents of the fridge to see what he can quickly rustle up. Cas stands by the back door, basking in the mild sunshine, sipping at his coffee.

“Can we go to the park?” Cas asks, glancing at Dean with such a hopeful expression that Dean knew he had no power to resist.

“Sure,” he answers, wrapping his arms around his husband and planting a soft kiss on the back of Cas’s head. “Whatever you want.”

“Good. I want to feed the ducks.”

They feed the ducks scraps of lettuce and seeds and eat lunch at a little bakery near the edge of the park. Cas gets chocolate frosting around his mouth and Dean kisses it away, the sweetness mixing with the tang of coffee on his tongue.

When they make it home, Cas curls up in his reading nook under a blanket. It’s his favourite place in the whole house, which made up for all the splinters Dean had gotten while building it. He may have completely sworn off building anything ever again during the process, but Cas’s joy when he’d seen the finished nook had been so priceless Dean knew he would do it again in a heartbeat.

The afternoon sun shines through the window, highlighting the soft lines of his husband’s face as he pours over his book, totally oblivious to the rest of the world. It makes Dean heart ache with happiness.

In the evening, Dean cooks steaks and they sprawl on the couch to watch _The Princess Bride_ with a tub of ice cream, exchanging lazy kisses and whispered endearments.

The last thing Dean says, when they finally curl up in bed again, Cas tucked up against him, is “I love you.” As he drifts of to sleep, he hears Cas’s sleep voice in the darkness.

“I love you too.”

**15th August 2017**

Dean comes home aching and tired from another day of soccer training. The _Grow Your_ _Minds_ sports week has really taken off in the past few years and has now become a regular part of the program. Dean loves that he still gets invited to take part and coach throughout August, even though he’s married to the director now and the organisation’s so big they can afford to hire a professional coach. It’s probably because Cas knows how much he enjoys it. Still, the summer’s rapidly coming to an end and Dean sighs when he realises that by this time next week he’ll be back in an overheated classroom.

He pauses before he opens the door, wondering what scene he’ll come home too. There have been more good days recently, but Cas is still unpredictable. The day after the fair had resulted in a horrible one, and although Cas has been back at work more regularly, he still has to take days off, like today.

The first thing he notices is the smell. Sweet and warm - pastry, apples, spices. Cas is baking.

Dean dumps his bag and he keys, hurrying through the house. He stops in the living room.

It’s spotless. The surfaces gleam, the cushions are plumped, and through the windows he can see laundry hanging to dry.

Then he hears it. A soft humming, coming from the kitchen, the odd words thrown into the mix as if the singer doesn’t know all the words or isn’t really thinking about it.

He sneaks towards the kitchen, heart pounding, mouth dry, a warm feeling of hope spreading through his chest.

Cas is washing dishes, his back to Dean. He’s wearing Dean’s old apron and humming as he rinses another saucepan. The window is open, and the radio is on, a jaunty pop song playing quietly in the background.

There’s a fresh apple pie on the counter, little tendrils of steam curling in the air. 

Cas must have heard him, because he turns, a wide smile playing on his lips. For the first time in a long time he seems… happy. The warm feeling in Dean’s chest spreads, his whole body tingling at the sight of that smile. Then Cas opens his mouth and says the phrase Dean’s been waiting to hear for fourth months.

“Hello Dean.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to, come say hi on tumblr: [ladyofthursday](https://ladyofthursday.tumblr.com/)


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